Page 11 of Cruel Alpha: Season One

But the kind brought on by an actual threat and the realization that… someone’s out there.

A breath hisses from my lungs with each sharp gasp as my head whips in all directions. It’s at this moment that I notice my wolf’s silence, which is a far cry from the usual. Typically, I’m forced to wrangle her in when I’m in danger, because she’s poised and ready to be let out. But right now, as I dangle from a massive tree like a fish out of water, she’s nowhere to be found. Which can only mean one thing…

Wolfsbane.

The net must have been soaked in it before being hung. A diluted mixture. Enough to deplete my strength, but not enough to leave my skin and eyes feeling like they’re on fire.

But there isn’t much time to worry about such details as I pant, staring down two broad silhouettes stalking in this direction. Iridescent eyes glare through the darkness—one set red, a characteristic of a beta wolf. The other, blue.

The color of analpha’seyes.

My thoughts and heart race wildly. If I’ve somehow screwed up so badly that the Eastern Quadrant’s alpha has hunted me down, according to the posted warning, I’m as good as dead.

But as the figures stalk closer, I recognize one’s features—a devastatingly handsome face, a glare filled with anger and wicked intentions.

I was wrong.

Completely.

The alpha who’s come for me, the one who now holds my very existence in his hands… is my own.

He steps close, looping his lengthy fingers through the net as he draws my dangling body closer. I shudder when one corner of his mouth curves upward with a dark smile.

One that sends the deepest of chills racing down my spine.

“I told you to be smart, Little Wolf, but you chose to test the limits of my patience instead.” He sighs, holding my gaze as frustration blooms in his expression.

He leans closer, and I feel the heat of his breath against my face.

“Now that I know you can’t be trusted, there’s only one way to tame a wild wolf. Do you have an inkling what that method might be?” he asks.

I’m quiet and he smirks again before breathing the answer.

“Punishment.”

I’m at a loss for words because fear has momentarily stolen them, but when they return, it’s to ask a question.

“How did you?—"

“How did I find you?” Alpha Caspian cuts in, finishing my question in that deep, menacing tone I’ve already grown to loathe. He smirks. “Let’s just say you should never underestimate the intuition of an alpha. I saw it in your eyes before you left. The defiance that let me know you weren’t nearly as content as you pretended to be. So, naturally… I followed you.”

I knew he’d come for me, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon.

He has countless wolves at his disposal. Wolves that could’ve taken on this taskforhim. But instead, he came on his own, traipsing through the woods in the middle of the night, setting traps, hunting me down.

Now, the only promise that lies ahead is that I’ll surely feel his wrath.

He said so already himself.

A gust sweeps past, and the wind brings his distinct scent to my nostrils, that of rich soil and cedar. I draw it in deep, filling my lungs. It’s more potent than when we met earlier this evening. Likely because it’s mingled with his sweat, and this intriguing new aroma causes saliva to collect in my mouth. I try avoiding it, try resisting the urge to breathe deep and savor it by holding my breath, but nature doesn’t work that way. Wolves are meant to identify—and enjoy—these subtle distinctions between the sexes. And at the moment, the alpha has me betraying my own will by inhaling the rawness of him.

The only thing I should be feeling as he stands before me is fear. The only thing I should bethinkingis what my next move will be once the effects of the wolfsbane wear off.

But, instead, I can only focus onhim.

He’s so close. Close enough that I can measure the width of his broad shoulders with a glance. So close I’m rendered silent by the flagrant masculinity bleeding confidence into his stride as he circles me. There is much to him, but most of all, he’s an alpha through and through. Beneath his solid weight, debris crunches under his feet. It isn’t lost on me that these may be my final moments. Any second now, he could slit my throat with his claws for having blatantly defied him.

He stops beside me again, but with my wolf bound, I don’t see as well as I’d like to. I was too disoriented when I was first yanked up by the net, but I have my bearings now. Which is why I’m just now taking in that he’s shirtless, thick muscle padding his upper body and arms in ways not often seen within the clan. Yes, our men are strong and formidable, but… not like this.

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